


Nara Black: Mirror's Shadow In My Skin

by crabapplered, GoblinCatKC



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Feudal Japan, Illustrations, M/M, Supernatural Elements, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-04 03:41:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5319113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crabapplered/pseuds/crabapplered, https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoblinCatKC/pseuds/GoblinCatKC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Edo Japan, Leonardo and Donatello race to lift Karai's curse on Raphael. An adventure in tattoos, sword fights and a magic mirror based on Crabapplered's sublime artwork, included within.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mercy in the Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Characters belong to their proper owners.  
> Note: This is a collaboration between myself and Crabapplered, as I simply wrote out the story that she and I plotted together and that she illustrated.

In the slums of Edo, few lights burned in the doorways or on the streets. Light meant you might catch someone else's attention, and the dwellers knew it was better to remain invisible in a city that didn't want to see them. Among the nameless murmuring vermin that called the poorly made shanties their home, one shack had swallowed the handful of others around it, but no one cared if a few street rats were displaced to find new hovels. And if anyone noticed that this shack had no doors, then they kept their mouths shut.  
  
The night still smelled of blood. No matter how far Leonardo traveled to and from the rat hole they called home, the copper scent lingered in the air, on his polished swords. After so many kills, he began to think that the blood stained even his breath.  
  
He always beat the sun home, but tonight the sky looked light gray as the morning followed fast on his heels. His breath misted in the air and the sounds of people rising and shuffling in their homes made him rush through the last few alleys. His scarf trailed after him in the wind, flowing like its printed dragon.  
  
His brother had shored up their home so that it could withstand both physical and spiritual attacks, and Leonardo counted on that strength when he leaped up to the roof. Although it looked as rickety as the surrounding shanties, it easily took his weight as he crept across the surface and opened the trap door, disappearing inside.  
  
Landing in a crouch, he relaxed into a kneeling position and waited. Donatello had scolded him before about interrupting a chant before it was finished.  
  
In the center of their home, five candles, one for each element, burned along a rough circle of sketched symbols. Foreign words filled the darkness in Donatello's familiar voice, not the clear and precise tones of their own country, but the sing-song of the foreign bastards to the west. His brother's insatiable curiosity forced him to seek out strange teachers early on, mastering esoteric chants and spells that Leonardo never would have believed in if they hadn't occasionally saved his life.  
  
The chant came to an end. Donatello exhaled once, then glanced over his shoulder. Candlelight played off the Tao tattoo on his face, the fire's glow turning the symbol black and orange, and the purple swirls looked like smoke half-concealing, half-revealing Donatello's face.  
  
"An easy night," Donatello said softly. "There was only the gaki in the shogun's well I had to deal with."  
  
Leonardo frowned. It _had_ been an easy night, and the way his brother always knew every detail before he even arrived unnerved him. But...  
  
"I didn't see any gaki when I passed the well," he said.  
  
Donatello smiled. "I know."  
  
Knowing better than to argue, Leonardo drew the scroll tucked into his belt and handed it over. Donatello unrolled it on his lap and scanned the symbols that Leonardo didn't recognize.  
  
While his brother read, Leonardo sighed and crept towards him, blowing out one of the candles and pushing it aside. Easy or not, tonight had been simply one stepping stone in their path towards vengeance, and he did not know how many more stones lay on that path. The endless days away from Raphael and Michelangelo, knowing that they struggled to defend their home from other ninja clans, made this self-imposed exile doubly hard. The dishonor staining his soul, and by association Donatello, threatened to crush him under its weight. His only respite...  
  
Leonardo rose up on his knees beside Donatello, fingers tracing the I Ching written into his brother's skin. He knew his breath over Donatello's neck and his hands gliding up to remove the hat and mask captured the mystic's full attention, but Donatello only half-smiled and tilted his head.  
  
"All that blood spilled," Donatello whispered as Leonardo slowly moved toward the sensitive spot where his skin touched his shell. "And this is our only lead now. A few sketchy commands and orders."  
  
"You'll figure it out," Leonardo murmured. "Later. Put it away. Please."  
  
Hesitating for just a moment, Donatello rolled the paper up again and set it aside. Leonardo would not ask again. He turned and found his elder brother only inches from his face, the night's frustration and empty rewards spurring on his need.  
  
He'd chosen to walk this path with Leonardo, to keep him company and protect him in all ways. As he lay down, he ran his hand over the tattoo on his brother's arm. Guan Yin, the merciful goddess. He knew Leonardo put his faith in her, but this act, this mercy in the darkness, served the same purpose, driving out some of the demons in both their lives.


	2. The Home Guard

His brothers screaming his name in fear and anger woke him up, as they had every night for a month. Instead of bolting awake as he had the first few nights, Raphael opened his eyes and lay staring at the ceiling.  
  
Old gray wood covered with cobwebs didn't keep the draft out, but it kept him dry. He listened to the rain tapping the roof and the thunder rolling in the distance. Empty for years, the shrine provided shelter to whatever forgotten kami once received veneration here and to two brothers of the Hamato family, once part of the strongest ninja clan in the region.  
  
If it hadn't been for that woman--  
  
Raphael forced that thought from his mind and sat up, reaching for his mask and armor beside the mat. He put them on automatically, tying on the mask last. Once he knotted it behind his head, he slipped a finger under the cloth and pulled free the edge of the seal pressed close to one eye.  
  
That seal made the curse impossible to forget, even for a moment. The paper hung past his shoulder and rustled in his ear with every turn of his head. The spell in Donatello's rushed calligraphy kept it firm against his skin, and only his brother could take it off, not that he would even if he was here.  
  
He climbed to his feet and made his way to the door, holding his hand out in the summer rain. Long grass, wild flowers and bushes covered the steps, all of it growing darker. Water dripped off the roof and onto the path to the city. He leaned against the doorframe and stared at the long buildings flowing into each other. Somewhere in that sprawling mess, his little brother worked all alone without him to watch his back.  
  
That hurt the most, not being able to watch over him. The flat, open space around much of the path made it hard for anyone to sneak up on Michelangelo when he left and returned. The surrounding trees provided plenty of cover, but their own traps and alarms would have caught the wariest ninja. But the city was dangerous, and Raphael tried to believe that Michelangelo would always come home.  
  
It hurt to think about, so he put it from his mind, trailing his hand along the top of the grass as he dragged his feet to the well behind the shrine. He hated this walk but he couldn't stop himself.  
  
A stone circle with a wooden top stood by itself, half-hidden by young saplings. He grabbed the top and pushed it aside, then looked over the edge. Even with a gray sky, the water reflected his face, the red peonies Michelangelo had engraved upon him, and the ugly black mark dripping down one side of his head.  
  
Karai's curse, only slowed by Donatello's spell, spread from the initial wound by his eye and now covered part of his face with long marks reaching his chest. It looked like someone had spilled ink on him, its evil nature only made clear by the way it wilted the red flowers it touched.  
  
The spilled ink had dripped another half-inch overnight. He slid the cover back in place.  
  
Practice and think, there was little else for him to do. He trained outside until he grew sick of the rain, then practiced inside until he couldn't stand looking at the walls anymore. He spent a few minutes pacing the boundaries of the shrine, careful never to set foot beyond the trees Donatello had marked.  
  
Raphael didn't understand everything his mystic brother said, especially when he said it in that annoying sing-song foreign language, but he knew that whatever spirits or power made this place a shrine also kept his curse from spreading faster.  
  
He looked up at the clouds and the slowly approaching storm and hoped his brother would come home soon.  
  
~  
  
In a small corner shop in one of the city markets, Michelangelo sat back and put his needles down. The red lanterns being hung out in the street meant it was time to stop. He and the customer both sighed in relief. His right hand always cramped after working all day. Bamboo stems weren't comfortable to work with for so long.  
  
"It's starting to take shape," she said, gingerly uncurling her fist. The outline of a blue dragon wrapped around her hand and arm, but only its body and back claws. Its head and front claws remained to be done on the hand of her lover. "And the black will change color?"  
  
He nodded and gave her a clean cloth to wrap over her hand. "Nara black always changes to blue. Just give it a little time."  
  
"Good. I'll have the next payment in a week," she said.  
  
Michelangelo smiled and chatted for a little while as he cleaned up, waving as she left the shop. She didn't know that she paid him in gossip. All of his customers did. Lovers tattoos, designs that became complete only when the lovers put their hands together, were popular now, especially among Edo's wealthy and noble youngsters. As they lay under his needles, they spoke to distract themselves from the pain.  
  
Judging from the rumors circulating among the ranking samurai and city officials, Leonardo and Donatello were still in Edo. Whispers of the death of some of the shogun's guards and the destruction of a well on his estate were true, although no one knew why the well had been destroyed. But at least it was something concrete to tell Raphael when he went home.  
  
His evening ritual included putting away his tools, closing up shop and then setting the nasty traps that kept out thieves. Needles tipped with poison lined certain spots on the windows and near the door, warning away experienced burglars and reducing the amateurs. He wished he didn't have to make the trek out to the shrine every night and morning, content to sleep in the shop, but Raphael was waiting for him.  
  
At least the rain had stopped. Packing his kiseru pipe with a blend of herbs, he gathered his bag of tools and inks and set off. The first stop was the tea shop right next to his, where he bought the leaves for that night's kettle and the next day's supply for his pipe. After that was the stroll through the market as he picked up dinner and flirted with the girls sitting under the red lanterns. The banter was light as they admired the bright carp along his arms and face. Normally they were wary with any man, but they knew he kept a woman somewhere and that he never kept her waiting.  
  
By the time he reached the edge of the city, the horizon was a soft shade of darkening blue. The moon provided plenty of light, more than he was comfortable with, and he watched for signs that he might not be alone. And not just for ninja. Tang Shen's stories, which Donatello echoed, had left him nervous that ghosts and spirits lurked behind every tree.  
  
The body on the path didn't startle him. He nudged it with his foot to make sure, but the sai sticking out of its back made it pretty clear that the ninja was dead. He looked up at the shrine and found Raphael sitting on the roof, knees to his chest, glaring at him.  
  
Michelangelo smiled and grabbed the body's foot, dragging it over the boundaries around the shrine. No wonder Raphael was angry. This one had nearly gotten away.  
  
He spotted the hole dug close by the front steps and dropped the ninja in, noticing two more besides. He kicked a bit of dirt over them and set his bags down in the shrine. Dinner would wait.  
  
Despite being old, the shrine bore Michelangelo's weight with few creaks as he swung up its supports onto the roof. Raphael didn't move as he sat next to him, so Michelangelo didn't speak for a few seconds. Taking a puff of his kiseru, he blew out smoke like a cloud across the moon. The night air rustled the trees and grass, carrying cricket songs with it.  
  
"Easy night, huh?" he said.  
  
Raphael didn't answer.  
  
"Glad you remembered not to chase that last one."  
  
Still no answer. Michelangelo reached up and gave a playful tug on the paper seal, earning a glare from Raphael.  
  
"You weren't sitting up here in the rain all day, were you?" He grinned as Raphael hunched down again. "I know those peonies look real, but you don't have to water 'em."  
  
Michelangelo swung his arm over Raphael and pulled him close, patiently letting him warm up against him. Tense and unresponsive at first, Raphael's head slowly dipped with a sigh and his shoulders relaxed.  
  
Neither of them spoke. Michelangelo looked over the cursed ink still spilling across his brother, covering his skin in light-swallowing black and wilting the flowers it touched. He rubbed his thumb against the ruined tattoos and flinched as he grazed the curse. Ice cold, as if all the warmth had bled out. Raphael looked up just enough to see him from the corner of his white eye.  
  
"When are they coming back?"  
  
He didn't have an answer for that. Not knowing what to say, Michelangelo stared at him and tried to put the words together.  
  
Raphael looked away again.  
  
"They're still in the city somewhere," Michelangelo said in a rush. "Some of the shogun's guards were killed. And they said it was one guy who broke in and--"  
  
"So Leo's still acting stupid," Raphael mumbled.  
  
Michelangelo exhaled and watched the smoke curl in the air. No point in arguing. Raphael had made up his mind the night Leonardo and Donatello slipped out and left them behind. Instead he reached around Raphael's shell and gave the fortune coin hanging on his belt a nudge, making it chime.  
  
"Stupid or not," he said softly, "I see you still got hope."  
  
Hope, but not the brothers who wrote the message and left it tied to his belt. Unimpressed, Raphael stared at him with mismatched eyes.  
  
"You won't go anywhere, right?"  
  
"Right." Michelangelo smiled. That promise came easily. As did the kiss that followed.


	3. Friend at My Throat

 

 

"Usagi my friend, please forgive me for asking this of you, but I know no one else I can trust implicitly with this matter. Surely you have heard of the theft of the Yata no Kagami. I have recently come into information--rumors, nothing more--that the Eight Hand Mirror is hidden away deep within the dregs of Edo. Such a relic cannot remain hidden forever, though, and I do not wish to see it fall into evil hands without at least an attempt at rescuing it.  
  
My source claims that four brothers of the Hamato family stole it from its resting place and plan to sell it soon. If it is sold, it may never be found again."  
  
If anyone other than Sanshobo had asked, Usagi knew he probably would not have come into the slums on what felt like a wild goose chase. The priest's letter waiting for him to wander back to Lord Noriyuki's estate had surprised him, but the contents frustrated him.  
  
No one knew what the Yata no Kagami looked like. The legendary eight-handed mirror once used to draw Amaterasu from her cage was not seen except by the emperor at his coronation. How was he supposed to recognize it even if he passed in front of it?  
  
He paused at the edge of the leaning shacks and muddy streets, watching children play with sticks as their mothers strung their rags out on clotheslines to dry. Then again, any kind of mirror would stand out here, let alone a legendary imperial relic. He steeled his nerves and walked down into the slums. At least his worn clothing and repaired sandals made him look like the other poor ronin living here.  
  
Ninja. He watched out of the corner of his eye, hyper aware of every group of men huddled together to gamble, every tired beggar curled up in a shadow. He'd had more dealings with ninja than he cared to remember, and he knew how treacherously they disguised themselves.  
  
No one here was willing to talk without being prompted by a few ryo, of which Usagi had precious few. He wished his friend Gen were here. The bounty hunter knew how to flush out men trying to stay hidden amongst those who spent their lives being ignored.  
  
However, Usagi noticed that each shanty usually consisted of little more than three walls and a leaning door, with the family squatting outside for the breeze. The rough wooden walls barely gave them enough room to sleep inside. So the long stretch of one dilapidated wall without any doors or windows caught his attention, especially when he found no cracks or chinks that let him peer inside.  
  
He paced the wall and then turned each corner, finding that this shanty not only had no openings but took up the space of four shacks, a waste of space when everyone lived cramped with junk and trash. Intrigued, he sat down across from the shack and took out one of the rice balls he'd saved, just one more ronin sitting in the dust as the sun went down.  
  
The crescent moon hid behind thick clouds, so scattered fires lit the slums. Usagi noticed that he was the only one sitting so close to the strange shack. Everyone else loitered well out of reach, and if they had to walk by, they turned the corner and took another path instead.  
  
An hour passed. Two. Usagi would have napped, but he was afraid of waking up with a sword at his throat. Or worse. He was not used to adversaries who used magic.  
  
"You will know them," the letter had continued, "by their markings. Their leader has the image of Guan Yin engraved upon himself, as well as cherry blossoms cascading down his face. He will most likely be accompanied by their sorcerer, who is covered in purple swirls and the I Ching."  
  
Nevertheless, his head was beginning to drop onto his chest when he heard the footfalls of someone moving fast. He looked up in surprise. Although he couldn't see them, whoever he heard was moving across the rickety rooftops of fragile shacks. Either he faced a ninja or a ghost.  
  
He stood and moved closer, narrowing his eyes as he watched the skyline. A moment later he heard something land in the dust. The runner had moved from the roofs to the road. He leaned against the wall and looked around the corner.  
  
A shadowy silhouette came towards the shack, but every step came slower and slower. Panting for breath, the ninja--Usagi hoped it was not a ghost--clasped one hand tightly over his arm as he moved. Only as the wind blew the moon clear of clouds did Usagi realize that not only was this not a ghost, but that the turtle's mask hid a handful of the cherry blossoms scattered over his face. His hand was clamped over a gash, blood spilling through his fingers and over the goddess just beneath the cut.  
  
Usagi stepped into the road, his hand on his hilt. "Hamato Leonardo, I assume?"  
  
The ninja stopped and sighed. He didn't seem surprised by Usagi's presence, just tired.  
  
"This is no concern of yours, samurai," he said, his voice tight.  
  
"It concerns all of Japan," Usagi said. "Where is the Yata no Kagami?"  
  
Despite his strained laugh, Leonardo smiled bitterly, his expression barely visible over his scarf. "If I told you I don't know, would you believe me?"  
  
"Ninja lie," Usagi said.  
  
"Yes," Leonardo whispered. "I guess we do."  
  
He straightened and took a deep breath, then began to draw his sword with his wounded arm. Usagi matched him, slowly sliding his own sword free. As Leonardo put both hands on his sword, Usagi hesitated before deciding not to use his own wakazashi. Something about this ninja made him prefer meeting him honorably matched.  
  
Dust swirled in the night air. Tension made the clouds seem to race by. Usagi held perfectly still, focusing on Leonardo's eyes. Gold eyes, how strange. Perhaps this ninja was a ghost after all. He let his gaze slip to Leonardo's sword for a fraction of a second. No, he was real. No ghost would tremble holding a sword, but Usagi knew better than to think Leonardo was afraid.  
  
"You are injured," Usagi said. "I don't want to kill you."  
  
"You might kill me," Leonardo conceded. "But my brother can summon a thousand demons in my place. Leave."  
  
"I cannot."  
  
They came together like lightning, their steel flashing in the darkness and striking with metallic clarity. Several steps behind him now, Usagi turned and brought his sword back high, deflecting Leonardo's downward slice. This close, he couldn't help noticing how the ninja's eyes burned too bright and his breathing had nothing to do with exertion. As they struggled, steel scraping steel, he glanced at the cut over the goddess. Even by moonlight he knew what poison looked like.  
  
"You will not win this fight," Usagi warned him.  
  
"I'm no samurai," Leonardo warned him in return.  
  
Usagi's eyes widened and he pushed hard, forcing Leonardo's sword up at the same time he leaped back. The ninja's shuriken passed a hair's breadth from his face. Usagi glared hotly at Leonardo, surprised at himself for thinking he might fight with any honor, and drew his short sword.  
  
This time they tested each other's reach and agility, their steps quick as they leaned close and came away again, trying to draw blood and deflecting each strike. Leonardo increasingly favored his right hand. Within a few seconds he was fighting left-handed.  
  
Usagi didn't lower his guard. Desperation made any opponent far more dangerous. A second later he landed flat on his back as his feet were swept out from under him. He rolled on his side as Leonardo's sword came down in the dirt, then came up and stumbled backward as the sword's tip nearly found his stomach. His sandals audibly shuffled in the dirt as he came back to his stance, deflecting the sword from his face.  
  
A twist of his wrist pushed Leonardo's sword away, but the ninja was too experienced to fight the movement. Instead his sword turned as he brought the hilt back towards himself, holding Usagi's katana inches from his face. As Usagi brought his wakazashi down, Leonardo had to use his injured arm to grab Usagi's hand.  
  
For a moment they faced off, each breathing hard as they struggled against the other's strength. The effort was too much. Leonardo went down to one knee, knowing he was slowly being forced backwards. With a broken cry, he landed on the dirt, sword still in hand but useless as Usagi's sword came to his throat.  
  
"Yield," Usagi commanded. "I cannot ask questions of a corpse."  
  
Leonardo held still, not daring to speak.  
  
"I can."  
  
The gentleness of the unfamiliar voice sent shivers down Usagi's spine.  
  
His face half-hidden by his broad sugegasa, Donatello stood in the center of the road, wearing the shadows comfortably. In the night breeze, the coins hanging at his belt chimed softly. Usagi's fur bristled as the sorcerer chanted, and he raised his sword even though it meant leaving Leonardo unguarded.  
  
Instead of scrambling to safety, however, Leonardo winced and closed his eyes, lying perfectly still. Usagi understood why as a cone of water swirled from Donatello's outflung hand, pounding into him and slamming him backwards to the ground. He slid through the mud until the wave lost its power and used itself up drenching the street.  
  
Usagi came to his feet, shaking the water from his ears as he spotted Leonardo staggering into his brother's side. The ninja dropped again, clearly exhausting the last of his energy. Then Donatello stepped in front of him, blocking him from view, and his eyes focused on Usagi.  
  
"Go away," Donatello warned him. "We don't have the mirror--"  
  
"Then you've sold it," Usagi bit, tightening his grip on his swords.  
  
"We never had it, you arrogant samurai!" Donatello said. "You're just too stupid to realize you're being used--"  
  
Seeing his opportunity, Usagi ran towards him as he ranted, hoping to close in quick before he could chant another spell. Donatello's hand went to the staff at his shoulder, but he still managed a short spell that sent shockwaves plowing the earth and air. Usagi sidestepped and fell against a shanty wall as the air in front of him seemed to turn into rocks for an instant. Then the force passed and he raised his sword again.  
  
To his surprise, Donatello did not try another spell. The sorcerer drew his staff and held it ready.  
  
"Don, run," Leonardo whispered harshly.  
  
"I'm not leaving you," Donatello said back, never taking his gaze from Usagi.  
  
"But if you keep holding back--"  
  
"I don't have a choice. He's in front of the shacks."  
  
Usagi blinked. "Since when do ninja care about people?"  
  
That gentle voice growled, making Usagi flinch.  
  
"Since when do samurai care about peasants?" Donatello didn't move away from his brother but his hands tightened on his staff so much that his fingers paled. "Is there a trail of lopped heads on your way here?"  
  
The insult would have stung him into anger if Usagi hadn't heard the sincerity in his voice. Though he stood perfectly still, his mind raced. These were thieves, or at least Sanshobo had heard them to be thieves. They were ninja, but no ninja had ever defended another like this one had. They both had to realize that Usagi would eventually win this fight, and still the sorcerer would not abandon his brother. Usagi didn't see that kind of loyalty often.  
  
"Strange," Usagi said, not answering. "I'd heard that the Foot ninja clan were ruthless, indiscriminate killers."  
  
"We split from that clan years ago," Donatello snapped. "They've been trying to kill us ever since."  
  
"If you are not the thieves I'm looking for, then I have no reason to fight you," Usagi said. Both ninja stared at him in confusion as he put away his swords. He stared back, his gaze so penetrating that Donatello leaned away and reached down to touch Leonardo's shoulder as if for strength.  
  
"You swear you have not taken the Yata no Kagami?"  
  
Donatello swallowed once, then nodded. "I swear." Although his hands shook slightly, he slowly slid his staff back to its resting place behind his shell. "We're looking for it, too--"  
  
"Don, no," Leonardo whispered.  
  
"But Leo, he--"  
  
"You can't trust him--"  
  
"You can," Usagi interrupted them. "I apologize for attacking you. I truly only wish to see the mirror restored."  
  
Leonardo's gaze slipped away from him to the ground. With one more look to make sure Usagi wasn't sneaking closer, Donatello sank beside Leonardo and whispered something Usagi couldn't hear. They argued for a few seconds until finally Leonardo nodded once, his tightly drawn face showing how much he didn't like his decision. Donatello slung Leonardo's arm over his shoulders and helped him back to his feet.  
  
"If you're telling the truth," Donatello said over his shoulder, "then follow us."  
  
Normally Usagi would have balked at following the turtle into his place of power. Dens of obakemono were death traps to the foolish, and he suspected that a sorcerer was not so much different than a goblin. Usagi wryly mocked himself as he walked after the pair, following them up the rough walls to the trapdoor in the roof.  
  
If Gen or my master were here, he thought, they would scold me for foolishly sticking my nose into other's business...again.  
  
Usagi landed on the dirt floor and looked around. A few candles provided the only light, showing him bare walls and a couple of blankets. As his eyes adjusted, he noticed the circle drawn in the dust and the hexagrams of solid and broken lines matching those engraved on Donatello's face.  
  
Once he'd settled Leonardo down on one of the hexagrams, Donatello moved two of the candles to different positions on the circle and removed the third. Leonardo's labored breathing slowly eased, but he didn't let go of Donatello's hand even as the sorcerer sat down in front of him and chanted. After a few moments, Donatello fell silent and lightly touched his brother's face, brushing his knuckles against his skin. The gesture was intimate, and Usagi felt a little uncomfortable being a spectator.  
  
Unwinding the scarf from his brother's throat, Donatello gently pulled it away and set it aside. By now it was clear that Leonardo had fallen asleep, or perhaps had been put to sleep. Donatello watched him for a little longer, then breathed out and turned to face Usagi, who didn't miss the fact that although Donatello seemed to trust him, the sorcerer also positioned himself between him and Leonardo.  
  
"Will he be all right?" Usagi asked. "I thought he was poisoned."  
  
"He is," Donatello said. "But he took an antidote before he arrived, and this will help neutralize it. We're just lucky the ninja who poisoned him wasn't prepared."  
  
Usagi tilted his head. "How do you know that?"  
  
"I was with him," Donatello said, his posture relaxing as the tension began to leave him. "That's why I couldn't stop your fight. It always takes me a few minutes to come back to myself."  
  
Not sure how to respond to that, Usagi let it pass. "I assume the ninja you speak of was a member of the Foot clan? You said you left them earlier, but the information I had makes you out to be part of them still."  
  
"Because Karai wants scapegoats and revenge in one hit," Donatello grumbled. "Samurai, you said you wanted to return the mirror. Will you help us find it?"  
  
"Please call me Usagi. Yes, I will, but first I need questions answered. Who are you? Why do you want the mirror?"  
  
"It's...a long story," Donatello said. "We used to be part of the Foot clan, but that was many years ago. Before our father forced us to run away."  
  
"I didn't think ninja were allowed to leave their clan."  
  
"We're not. But he fell in love with a foreign woman. Tang Shen was supposed to marry one of our elders and cement an alliance with another clan, but the elder died. By the time they decided who she should marry, it was too late. She'd already fallen in love with our father. When they were discovered, we had to leave everything behind."  
  
"You were lucky," Usagi said. "I know of only one other who ran away from her clan, and she died soon after regardless."  
  
"'Lucky'..." Donatello gave a bitter laugh. "The clan might've been willing to let us run, but father had killed the headman's son. Now his daughter is their leader. Karai will never let us go."  
  
"I begin to understand," Usagi mused. "She stole the mirror to frame you, so you want to return the mirror so people stop searching for you."  
  
"Partly," Donatello said. "But...do you know anything about the Yata no Kagami?"  
  
"Just its legend, that it was the mirror used to lure the goddess from her cave to light the world. Now it's only used during the emperor's coronation."  
  
Donatello nodded. "It's wise of them to keep it hidden. It's very powerful. Its light can erase any darkness, lift any curse. That's why we need it."  
  
"Are you cursed?" Usagi asked. "Is your magic a dark gift?"  
  
"No," Donatello smiled. "Tang Shen taught it to me a long time ago. But my brother Raphael--" He chuckled at Usagi's surprise. "There are four of us. Not long ago, Karai found us and tried to curse Leonardo, but my younger brother Raphael got in the way. Her needle struck him instead."  
  
"What was the curse?" Usagi asked.  
  
"...you've noticed our tattoos," Donatello said. "Well, my little brothers' make ours look modest. Karai's needle attacked the ink in his skin so that he's being swallowed in darkness. I sealed the damage, but it's only slowing it down. We probably don't have more than a month before his soul is consumed."  
  
Pain clouded Donatello's face. He kept one hand on Leonardo's to reassure himself that he was there. Usagi wondered how close they were, and if their family had ever been separated before. To be driven to such lengths for each other, though, made those strong bonds a vulnerability. Especially when they were alone in life with no lord.  
  
"Your father is dead," he said softly, "isn't he?"  
  
Donatello nodded once. "The same day Raphael was cursed. Karai is a terrible enemy. She very nearly blinded my brother."  
  
Usagi noticed the scars across Leonardo's face. He frowned. "You said she had intended her curse for him? Why does she single him out in your family?"  
  
"They used to be friends," Donatello said, his voice suddenly flat.  
  
Straightening, Donatello sat cross-legged and let his eyes half-close. "It's late. You should get some sleep. I'll wake you when Leonardo's well again."  
  
The turtle's tone told Usagi not to ask any more questions for the night. Clearly the subject bothered him. Curious but knowing better than to push, Usagi silently nodded and scooted back, leaning against the wall. At first he drowsed, not entirely comfortable letting his guard drop in front of these two, but as time passed and Donatello showed no signs of moving, Usagi found himself drifting to sleep.

 


	4. Curse and Misfortune

 

The galaxy spread across a cloudless night sky, sparkling behind a black moon. In the respectable districts, houses and shops closed up and lights were doused. Darkness moved into the streets, kept back only by a scant handful of lanterns in the hands of hired night watchmen. Yawning as they leaned against the nearest wall, none of them heard the tiny rustle of cloth as Karai slipped by them, passing just beyond the lantern's glow.  
  
Sometimes on two legs, sometimes on four, she flowed like water along rooftops and through the street, her tail outflung for balance and twitching behind her. When she came to the end of the row of houses, she crept down, darted across the street, and scaled the high wall circling her target's estate.  
  
For a moment she paused at the top. Tall wisteria vines wrapped around the other side of the wall and flowered around her, hiding her as she scanned the garden. Two guards walked along the path lit by a few lanterns, murmuring to each other in low voices. Karai watched them disappear around the corner, then slid along the top of the wall until she was clear of the vines that would snap or rustle if she touched them. Once down, she hurried on all fours to the closest door and gently slid it open enough to look in.  
  
The hall was dark, but the garden light leaked in so that she could make out the edges of the floor and walls. She opened the door and slid in, then closed it with her tail tip as she eased her body down and almost completely flat, only inches off the floor. With her hands braced as far out as possible, she could just barely maneuver across the edges of the floor slats built to creak and groan if someone stepped on them. A few times she lost her balance overextending herself, but a quick flick of her tail to one side or the other set her right again.  
  
If only she'd been able to sneak in one of her ninja as a maid or a guard, she thought, then her own loyal clan would have assassinated this man. She had other duties to attend to, plans and schemes that demanded her attention. But sometimes she had no choice but to bloody her own hands.  
  
She rounded the corner and heard him speaking to his servants in that shrill, frantic voice men get when they know they're in danger. He finished with a shout. Footsteps came rushing toward the door and Karai skittered up to the ceiling, bracing herself by pushing her tail hard against the far wall. Servants rushed out, and she spotted the ryo in their hands. So he was hoping to buy ronin off the street to protect himself.  
  
The servants running down the hall masked the noise as she dropped back to the floor and went inside, sliding the door so softly behind her.  
  
Like most merchants, he was fat under layers of silk. With his back to the door, he took slow, wobbly steps to the small table in the corner with a candle. He knelt down and stared at the stacks of ryo, then smacked them with his hand. The coins glittered as they fell, like stars cast into the darkness, coming to rest at her feet.  
  
Finally he noticed her. This part never changed. First the wide eyes, the sharp breath of recognition. Then the way they always stumbled over and half-crawled, half-dragged themselves away. The way their eyes followed her hands as she unsheathed her kunai and unwound the chain attached to the blade.  
  
The way they didn't yell or run until she swung the heavy weight at the end and took a step towards them.  
  
Before he reached the far wall, she loosed the chain. The metal flew out and snagged against his neck, then wrapped around again and again, tighter and tighter until the heavy weight slammed into the back of his head. She yanked back hard, drawing him across the floor until he lay face down on the floor, gasping in panic.  
  
"No one leaves the clan," she told him, whipping him onto his back with her tail. "Not even fat merchants who forget where they came from."  
  
Blood splashed the floor. Flew up the wall. Found the cracks in the floor and poured into the darkness beneath the house.  
  
By the time anyone arrived, all that was left was the candle guttering in its own wax.  
  
She did not relax until she reached her current hideaway, a house kept by her clan on the outskirts of the city. Built without any concern for the proper flow of nature, the wood boards of the wall looked more like white bones kept together out of ill will alone. She closed the window behind herself and locked the latch, testing it to make sure it wouldn't open. Ignoring her bed for now, she crept across the dirt floor to the corner and the fire pit permanently crackling. The flames made the blood on her hands shine, but it was easily wiped away.  
  
Above the fire hung her most prized possession, a mirror that still reflected the day it lured the sun goddess out of her cave. The blinding light made staring into the mirror dangerous for any but the most holy or royal personages, but she'd found a way to blacken the glass with fire and the negative chi that gathered in this, the most inauspicious direction of a house already made of misfortune. Tracing the edge with her hand, she looked into her dark reflection and watched her features blur and disappear.  
  
"Donatello," she whispered.  
  
Linked by the curse on Raphael and his spell sealing it, the mirror gave her a reflection of Donatello sitting in the same decrepit shack he'd been in the last few times she looked in on him. She could not move the mirror to look at anything else in the room, but she didn't have to. Leonardo lay in clear view at Donatello's side, fast asleep. The strip of cloth bound around his arm didn't hide the fading poison.  
  
Enrapt, she touched her fingertips to the glass, following the line of his body. The scars she'd left on his face stood out against his skin. Did he think about her when he touched them? Did he ever dream of what they might have been if he had not betrayed his clan? If he had not betrayed her?  
  
Her hand tightened on the mirror, making the gold and jade tremble. Honorless coward! Was she worth less than a dead father and disgrace?  
  
Donatello's head snapped up and he glared. He couldn't see her, but he knew. He always knew. In an instant, the reflection faded and she saw her own face again. Damn sorcerer. He never let her see her intended for more than a moment.  
  
But he couldn't stop her from trying Raphael. The curse linked him directly to the mirror, though she could only see him when he left his shrine. If only she knew where it was! But the land around Edo was vast and easy to hide in, and Donatello had hidden him well.  
  
To her surprise, tonight Raphael came into view. The image didn't last long. As Raphael thrashed and screamed in pain, the ink creeping down his body, Michelangelo held him and dragged him back up the path to the shrine. At the very bottom of the mirror she saw a black gloved hand still holding a tanto, one of her own ninja.  
  
Her hands tightened around the mirror. Beyond the screaming and her own heartbeat pounding in her ears, whispers swirled in the glass. Raphael's thoughts, wracked and howling, bled into the mirror's magic. The words were indiscernible now, but as more time passed, she would soon catch his soul.  
  
It should have been Leonardo's soul in her hands, her dear childhood friend turned traitor. He'd always been so honorable, so how could he follow his coward of a father and that whore--why hadn't his loyalty to his clan trumped his loyalty to his family? Why hadn't he been that loyal to her?  
  
Raphael disappeared from sight as Michelangelo dragged him back to the shrine. As the mirror faded, she pushed it away and stared into the darkness. Raphael was as good as hers. In time she would claim Leonardo as well.


	5. Sea of Lights

The night before, Donatello had been on guard and clinging to shadows, and Leonardo woke up constantly, too nervous to sleep soundly. Usagi had been little better. Life as a wanderer meant frequent nights in empty temples or around campfires, usually with strangers who happened to travel the same road. Depending on his sixth sense to parse out the peasants from the bandits and assassins, Usagi was used to sleeping light. He kept his back to the wall and drowsed, opening his eyes at the smallest whisper of a chant, relieved that it was always just Donatello guiding Leonardo's body to heal itself.  
  
Tonight, fortunately, with Leonardo awake and well, the tension in the shack faded and Donatello turned his attention to preparing himself for the coming battle. A dozen candles surrounded Donatello as he chanted, but the firelight only made the shadows on the sorcerer flicker with the mist. If Usagi squinted, he could make out the edges of something white on his shell, the hints of purple smoke on his skin, but Donatello never moved so that he could see it clearly.  
  
Usagi eyed the shallow layer of mist covering the floor, called up by the sorcerer's magic. He wondered if the mist stopped at the walls or if the roads outside were covered as well. As long as he didn't hear or see anything skittering beneath the rolling waves of white vapor, he told himself not to panic. It wasn't easy. Magic always made his skin crawl.  
  
White light from his little paper lantern kept the space in front of him lit, but it didn't make him feel any safer. Donatello's chants made the darkness tangible, as if Usagi could reach his hand out of the flickering light and come back with black ink on his fingertips. He didn't move his hand at all, frozen in place as he watched the sorcerer for any sudden movements. Donatello looked relaxed in the center of his circle, hands twisting into strange shapes as he channeled chi through himself, but Usagi kept his hands near his swords.  
  
Beside Usagi, just out of arm's reach, Leonardo sat with his arms folded, legs crossed, eyes closed over his scarf. The bandage around his arm hung loose, ready to fall off. After waking up, the ninja had refused to allow Donatello to touch it. The skin looked healthy again, although Leonardo still tried not to use that arm, favoring his other instead.  
  
Torn between trying to watch both of them, Usagi settled for keeping Leonardo in the corner of his eye, not only because he was deadly but also because he confused him. From what he'd seen, Leonardo cared deeply about his family, to the point of ordering his brother to escape and leave him behind. He was a ninja, all of whom were treacherous and deceitful, but he'd also warned Usagi before his shuriken sank into his face. And his eyes, whenever Usagi caught a glimpse of them, were open and honest.  
  
With his head turned a few inches from Usagi, Leonardo kept his stare on the floor, refusing to move. If Usagi hadn't seen him wounded at Donatello's feet, he might have wondered if Leonardo cared at all about his brother. After waking up, Leonardo hadn't spoken at all, no word of thanks or question if Donatello was all right. His face showed no emotion, even though the sorcerer wore his feelings and watched with wide eyes when Leonardo sat with his back to the wall, his swords in his lap.  
  
Usagi had to assume his presence had put Leonardo on edge. The young ninja's body looked taut, ready to fight, and he controlled his breathing as if keeping himself from reacting to the samurai. Usagi was sure the mask around his eyes hid black sleepless circles, and the embroidered dragon scarf covered any nervous twitch of his mouth.  
  
Donatello paused in his chant long enough to glance at his brother, a small frown of disapproval formed and gone in an instant. Usagi followed the look back to Leonardo in time to see the gold eyes flicker and turn away from the sorcerer. Leonardo's fingertips went to the goddess engraved on his arm before he realized what he was doing and drew back as if burned. His gaze slid sideways just enough to tell that Usagi had noticed and snapped back to the ground again, and he adjusted slightly where he sat as if uncomfortable.  
  
Was Leonardo afraid of him? No, or else he wouldn't sit so close, nor allow Usagi so close to Donatello. He had to be nervous, though. Regardless of poison, he'd lost the fight and would have lost both their lives if Donatello had been any less sincere with Usagi.  
  
Usagi remembered the times he spent in the company of someone who'd bested him. He'd felt a little nervous, of course, sometimes wary, and if he thought back to his earliest fights, he remembered shame and embarrassment as well. But then he'd been a child--he stopped and considered that. He'd had a great master with him when he got into danger as a child. From Donatello's explanation, Leonardo was the master of this family.  
  
"Please forgive me for asking this," he said softly, glancing at Leonardo. "But how old are you?"  
  
Somehow Leonardo seemed to withdraw even further into himself. Usagi wondered if Leonardo would answer at all. To his surprise, not only did he answer, but he didn't try to embellish his answer or make himself seem older.  
  
"Sixteen," Leonardo said. "Last month."  
  
Sixteen wasn't very long ago for Usagi, but he winced to hear that much responsibility placed on someone so young. No wonder Leonardo looked like a bow drawn too tight and about to break.  
  
"It must be difficult," Usagi said. "Living alone is hard enough, but to take care of your family as well, against a whole clan..."  
  
"We'll survive," Leonardo said flatly, staring at nothing. "Karai--her anger makes her predictable."  
  
Usagi wondered if he might learn something else about her, and he leaned a little closer as Leonardo's voice dropped low.  
  
"You know her very well?"  
  
"I did," Leonardo murmured.  
  
"Your brother said you used to be friends," Usagi replied.  
  
"More than friends." Leonardo's eyes turned distant, as if he could see the past. "We were to rule the clan together."  
  
A moment passed before Usagi fully understood what Leonardo meant. Not just a friend, but his intended. An arranged marriage--to a woman who was now his enemy. And the glimpse of pain on Leonardo's face, fleeting but so striking that before Usagi could stop himself, he'd blurted out the question.  
  
"Did you love her?"  
  
Leonardo flinched, but any answer he would've made was cut off by the sound of the candles around Donatello suddenly sparking and hissing. Now wishing he hadn't followed them inside their home, Usagi pressed himself up against the wall and would have scooted back through the wood if it had been any less solid. The sorcerer glared at him over his shoulder, and the mist around him lashed and whirled around the floor.  
  
"It's all right," Leonardo said, looking sideways at his brother.  
  
"It's none of his--"  
  
"If we're going to fight her, he should know."  
  
Quiet and steady, Leonardo waited for Donatello to calm down. Although Donatello turned again and continued his chanting, his words remained clipped and terse for several seconds. The mist took longer to stop frothing like waves and settle along the floor. Leonardo watched him for a moment, then looked back to Usagi.  
  
"If," Donatello cut him off, refusing to look at them, "you insist on talking about her, do it outside. I don't want to hear it."  
  
With a silent nod, Leonardo rose to his feet and pushed the overhead door open. Grabbing his lantern, Usagi got to his feet, never taking his eyes off Donatello as he rushed up and out of the shack. He stopped at the far edge of the rooftop and watched Leonardo follow, only breathing out when the trapdoor fell shut again. Usagi began to wonder if Leonardo wasn't under a spell, too. The ninja walked across the wooden roof without a sound, stopping and scanning the shanty town to make sure they were alone.  
  
As Leonardo turned, to Usagi's surprise, in the bright glow from the full moon he could now see the true extent of the turtle's tattoos. Lotus blossoms covered the back of his legs, from his calves to--Usagi drew in a quick breath. Guan Yin covered his arm, but on his shell stood the three remaining great bodhisattvas like a protective shield. They seemed to glow like the moon, beautiful but out of place on a lowly ninja's back. Usagi wondered if their brother Michelangelo also knew sorcery to make his work so striking.  
  
"You're afraid of magic, samurai?" Leonardo asked. He kept out of sword's reach and stared at the stars.  
  
"It isn't natural," Usagi said, refusing to answer the question directly. "Why toy with nature? People weren't meant to be so powerful."  
  
"Powerful enough to lose to you," Leonardo replied. "Don't be afraid of him. He has a temper, but his magic isn't really suited to fighting."  
  
"His water and stones hurt all the same," Usagi said. He stared at him, trying to find some hint of suspicion or fear. Leonardo's eyes were calm. "He really doesn't make you nervous?"  
  
Leonardo half-smiled, but also didn't answer directly. "Like I said, he has a temper. And...Karai is a touchy subject."  
  
"I am sorry if my questions offended you," Usagi said with a slight bow of his head.  
  
"Don't' be." Leonardo sighed and stared at the moon. "It's a reminder, that's all. Any feeling I had for her is gone."  
  
Hard to believe, but Usagi didn't challenge him. If Leonardo had only buried his feelings deep, then it would be cruel to force him to admit the truth. If Leonardo really felt nothing now, then it didn't matter.  
  
"We always knew we would be married," Leonardo started. "It was arranged soon after we were born. We were raised together, played together--we were brought up to the sword together. We were so rarely apart."  
  
He heaved a deep breath, controlling his voice before he continued. "Our father killed hers only a month before we were supposed to marry. We were practicing when we heard, and for a moment I saw it in her eyes...we both knew I had to choose, and choose right then."  
  
"To stay or to leave with your family?" Usagi asked.  
  
Leonardo nodded once. "I could have stayed. I could have redeemed my family's honor. With her father dead, she was our new clan leader. She needed me." His voice faltered. "Honor demanded I stay."  
  
"But you didn't."  
  
"No. I would have had to kill my own father to avenge Saki, and kill Tang Shen as well. And my brothers had already made their choice by defending them. I would have had to kill my whole family."  
  
By the tone of Leonardo's voice, Usagi knew how impossible that was. And worse, he also heard the guilt that came from considering it, even for a moment. In that instant between clan and family, Leonardo had to have visualized killing Donatello, his father, everyone.  
  
Karai had already lost her father. In her eyes, his choice should have been obvious.  
  
"You must love your family very much," Usagi said. "To be forced to change alliances--that is a hard lesson to learn."  
  
"I wish I'd learned it sooner." Leonardo didn't look away from the moon, preferring to look at Usagi as little as possible. It was easier to talk to a nameless, meaningless ronin than the samurai who'd treated him honorably, spared their lives, shrank from magic and now listened with a kind and curious ear. Leonardo almost laughed. In every way, Usagi was dangerous to him.  
  
"Why sooner?" the samurai asked.  
  
"I..." Leonardo took a deep breath and gathered his thoughts. "I hesitated. When she chased us down, even after she slew my father and Tang Shen, I hesitated to kill her. She attacked, and my brother Raphael took the curse meant for me."  
  
His voice grew softer, speaking more to himself. "It should be me trapped in that temple losing my soul."  
  
"Is that why you are so driven to save him?" Usagi asked.  
  
"He's my brother." From his tone, that was all the explanation needed.  
  
Usagi tilted his head as he looked over him again. Wiry, more tense and suspicious than Donatello, more--he struggled for the right word and ultimately settled for worn. "Then that is why you are running yourself to exhaustion."  
  
Leonardo didn't answer at first. He drew his scarf down, letting it fall down his shoulders and pool beside him. The breeze touched the ends of his mask.  
  
"I envy you, ronin."  
  
"Me?" Usagi frowned. "I have no home. I wander from town to town. Half the time I'm in some sort of trouble. It is not an enviable life."  
  
"No family," Leonardo said softly. "No responsibilities except what you accept. No enemies except the ones you make."  
  
Perhaps that looked like paradise to the young ninja, Usagi thought. No guilt. No father to force him to leave his clan. No family to take care of.  
  
"Could you really give them up?" Usagi asked.  
  
Leonardo squeezed his eyes shut and drew into himself. He didn't answer. Usagi had the feeling that he'd never allowed himself to even ask that question.  
  
"It's normal to feel that way," Usagi said as if speaking to no one. "We cannot choose our families. The course fate sets for us is sometimes difficult to bear."  
  
"Such is karma," Leonardo said.  
  
"Mm." Usagi nodded once in agreement. "It is not a sin to think of how our life might be easier without its burdens."  
  
"But they're my brothers," Leonardo whispered. "I shouldn't think of such things."  
  
"Maybe not," Usagi said. "But have you abandoned them?"  
  
A heartbeat. And then Leonardo's answer, soft and fierce and prophetic.  
  
"Never."  
  
Usagi smiled. "Then you have done your duty. And performed it more faithfully for feeling a little conflicted now and then."  
  
Visibly considering that, after a moment Leonardo sighed and gave up dwelling on it for the night, instead staring at the city sprawled before them. Lanterns and bonfires danced all around them, sparkling in the breeze.  
  
"You're a strange samurai," Leonardo said, "listening to the complaints of a ninja."  
  
"You're a strange ninja," Usagi said, "trusting a poor, wandering ronin."  
  
Leonardo half-smiled and didn't try to answer. Below them, Donatello's chanting matched the night's rhythm and Usagi noticed that the mist had indeed filled the streets below, disappearing in-between the shacks. He glanced sideways at Leonardo and found him watching the stars shimmering in the heat. The design on his shell caught Usagi's attention again and he studied it for a moment.  
  
"Did it hurt?" he asked suddenly.  
  
"Huh?" Leonardo followed his gaze towards his back until he realized what Usagi meant. He half-smiled at Usagi, knowing the samurai's white fur would never be inked. "It hurt, yes. Not that bad, though."  
  
Usagi wondered if he could get away with asking why the bodhisattvas and why lotus blossoms, pure from the muddy sins of the world they grew from, but he thought better of it.  
  
Together they watched the city drowse through the night, a glowing companion to the moon and stars in a sea of lights keeping the darkness at bay.


	6. Burning Road

A mile away, Michelangelo's eyes narrowed in suspicion. His step quickened. The setting sun's fiery golds and blazing oranges masked the glow, but as he drew closer, the twilight became a backdrop for the flames rising out of the forest. Smoke drifted into the clouds and the closer he ran, the louder came the sound of clashing steel.  
  
The screams reassured him, if only a little. Screams meant Raphael was still alive, still fighting, still killing. Not caring about stealth, Michelangelo drew out his nunchucks and raced up the path. The temple burned like a picture of hell, black and cracking as the roof buckled. Like demons, Raphael and three ninja fought to the rhythm of fire roaring behind them.  
  
Barely noticing that he was stepping over bodies, Michelangelo used a fallen tree trunk to leap into the fight. He tackled the closest ninja to the ground, cushioning the fall with his enemy's body and slamming the end of his nunchuck into the back of the man's head. Rising to a crouch as footsteps came towards him, he turned halfway and swung, crushing one ninja's knee and then cracking his skull open as he fell.  
  
He felt the sword coming at his head before he saw it, catching it in his chain and yanking it aside as he swung upwards. There was an explosion of teeth and blood as the ninja's jaw shattered. Michelangelo was up and running before the body began to fall.  
  
Something was wrong. He expected to see Raphael fighting, backing up, something. Raphael knelt with one hand over his eyes, his other hand uselessly holding his sai. His brother didn't seem to notice the kama arcing towards his neck.  
  
No time. Michelangelo flung his nunchucks at the kama, catching the blade on his chain. The throw didn't yank the kama out of the ninja's hand, but it pulled the blade off center, giving Michelangelo enough time to get close.  
  
Turning his attention to Michelangelo, the ninja raised his kama, aiming for the vulnerable skin beneath the shell, but he dropped his weapon before he could attack. Shaking, he looked down and saw Raphael's sai buried to the hilt in his ribs. As it slid out, he toppled over. The sai slipped from Raphael's hand into the dust.  
  
Michelangelo scanned the area he could see, looking for shadows that didn't come from the flames. Nothing. After one more look, he knelt beside Raphael, putting his hands on his shoulders and gently turning him. The seal was still in place. His brother didn't look injured.  
  
"Raph? What's wrong?"  
  
Raphael opened his eyes. Pure white.  
  
His voice caught in his throat. Michelangelo tentatively put his hand out, then leaned closer when the skin around his eyes drew his attention. Like a drop of water making its painful way alone, the ink crept down Raphael's face. He put his hand on the seal, but it was still firmly stuck. Whatever power that slowed the ink was burning along with the shrine.  
  
"Can you still see?" he whispered.  
  
"S'blurry," Raphael answered, leaning into his hands. "Cold."  
  
With very few options, Michelangelo held Raphael close as he considered each one. Stay here? Impossible. Karai knew where they were now. Besides, in a moment the shrine would collapse and there would be no difference between this place and the city. In a few seconds, Raphael would collapse in pain.  
  
There were no other temples or shrines nearby, nothing large enough to hold Raphael, let alone house them until their brothers returned.  
  
Edo. They couldn't risk the temples there, but he could hide his brother and pray. Donatello had shown him how.  
  
"Raph..." Michelangelo hesitated. His brother would hate this, but they had no choice.  
  
Behind them, the walls of the shrine collapsed inward. Raphael gasped and went limp at the same time.  
  
At least Michelangelo knew how to ease the pain. He took off his prayer beads and put them around Raphael's neck. "In case of an emergency," Donatello had said. "Don't use them if you're still in the shrine, but if you have to leave, put them on him." He didn't understand why the beads couldn't be used before--Donatello was always vague about things like that--but Raphael didn't start screaming yet, so he didn't care.  
  
Turning around, he pulled Raphael onto his back, getting a good grip under his thighs before he stood. Raphael was silent, but his breathing came steady and unlabored in his ear. A moment later, Raphael put his arms around him, easing the burden a little.  
  
"Just try to relax, 'kay?" Michelangelo forced himself to smile as he started walking. "Those beads'll slow it down again. And when we get to my shop, I'll start that chant Donnie taught us, and that should help, too."  
  
Bent over, Michelangelo carefully navigated back along the path, keeping alert for any noises around them. All he heard were crickets and owls, and he tried to tell himself that owls were just owls, not really omens of death. At least the moon was just a sliver away from full, providing ample light. And the road was mostly downhill.  
  
At first he thought Raphael was slipping and tightened his grip, but he relaxed when he saw that his brother was just tilting his head to look up. To his relief, although the ink had claimed both eyes, it hadn't spilled any farther. The sooner they reached the city, the sooner he could begin chanting, just to make sure. He didn't think prayer beads were as strong as a shrine.  
  
"S'nice," Raphael murmured.  
  
"Huh?" Michelangelo craned his neck to see him, but Raphael wasn't looking at him. Although his eyes were white, he was obviously looking at the sky.  
  
"Stars," Raphael said. "A little blurry, but I can see 'em now."  
  
Michelangelo's smile came a little easier. At the shrine, the thick branches never gave them a clear view.  
  
By the time they reached the city, Michelangelo's arms felt nearly numb. He managed to reach his shop, avoiding the main streets and taking side paths. Anyone who passed them kept their heads down and said nothing, happy to ignore them and keep to their own business.  
  
He had to set Raphael down to open the door, but to his relief, Raphael had enough strength and presence of mind to stagger inside with his help. Michelangelo locked up again, blocking the windows to make sure no one could look in, and cleared one corner of his needles and inks, shoving them into a pile. Then he settled down and pulled Raphael up against himself.  
  
"You still with me?" Michelangelo asked as he readjusted him.  
  
A mumble was his only reply, and Raphael's gaze wandered around the room, but he didn't worry too much. The ink wasn't spreading again. He clasped his hands over Raphael and closed his eyes, trying to remember the chant Donatello had taught him.  
  
"Ji...ji lu, ju..." His voice faltered. Long weeks had passed since Donatello taught him the chant, but he never understood that strange foreign tongue. He'd learned it by rote.  
  
Raphael turned slightly and panted for breath. He'd fallen asleep, and he instinctively tucked himself under Michelangelo's chin. Only now did Michelangelo feel the night's chill, which would only get worse come morning. He wished he had a blanket here. He had to settle for wrapping himself around his brother.  
  
"Ji lu, ju lu, jie mong..."  
  
Michelangelo relaxed and let the words come back to him slowly. The prayer to Guan Yin would keep the curse from spreading any faster, although it meant he had to keep chanting as long as he was awake. Little time left now. But if the Merciful Goddess could keep their eldest brother out of trouble, no doubt she wouldn't forget the rest of their family.  
  
His chanting welcomed the morning sun.


	7. Cold Light

As Donatello chanted, at the edge of his consciousness another voice whispered a sutra. Halting at first, growing steadier with each syllable, the sutra to the merciful goddess became a steady flow in his mind. Michelangelo's voice, unheard for so long, made him falter and stop.  
  
Beneath the sutra, a sensation of cold and growing emptiness. Donatello squeezed his eyes tight. He hadn't seen his brothers in over a month, and hearing them in pain hurt worse than their separation.  
  
Every time Michelangelo paused to take a breath, Raphael's agony grew sharper, fading again as his brother prayed. The beads were beginning to lose their strength. Through them, and through the seal he'd placed on his brother's face, Donatello experienced echoes of Raphael's sight and hearing, whispers of far off voices, distant but growing closer, beckoning and calling him to the land of the dead. Raphael didn't see the sunrise or feel the sun's warmth. His body grew cool to the touch, colder where the black ink covered his skin.  
  
"Raphael's here," Donatello murmured, halting his chant. "In the city."  
  
Drawn from sharpening his sword, Leonardo looked up in shock. "What? He left the shrine? But--"  
  
"It must've been attacked," Donatello said. "That's the only reason he'd leave."  
  
"But the curse--"  
  
"We can still save him," Donatello cut him off. "Michelangelo remembered to put his beads on him. He's chanting over Raphael as we speak."  
  
"Then there's no more time," Leonardo said. "We leave right now."  
  
Donatello nodded once and stood, putting on his sugegasa and tucking his chimes into his belt lest they make noise. He picked up his staff almost as an afterthought.  
  
"Wait--you're coming?" Leonardo asked, hesitating as he sheathed his swords. "I thought--"  
  
"I can't stay behind this time," Donatello said. "We'll need to take the mirror with us, and it's dangerous if you don't know how to handle it. And I don't want you to waste time coming back here when we should go directly to Raphael."  
  
After a moment, Leonardo nodded. He'd come to rely on Donatello's second sight, and he never had to worry about his brother in a fight if he wasn't there. Donatello spent more time practising magic than ninjitsu.  
  
He reminded himself that he had Usagi at his side, but that was uncertain as well. Although he felt comfortable enough around the samurai to trust him, he worried that their camaraderie would change when they had the mirror. After the fight, Leonardo knew he would need to be on his guard.  
  
They fell silent when they spotted the small apartment, its walls and both floors weathered by rain and time. Splitting up, they took their places in the street and overhead, the two ninja leaping up and disappearing into the darkness. Usagi watched them vanish. He'd grown accustomed to their presence and felt them nearby, two ghosts overhead.  
  
On the edge of the slanted roof just above the samurai, Leonardo gazed at the window. Every night until now he'd spent creeping over little palaces of wealthy merchants, stealing information from Karai's network, torturing it from her spies when he couldn't, always slitting throats when he had what he needed. Long nights perched in the shadowed recesses of rooftops, his breath frosting in the air, waiting for a household to fall asleep, and then coming back to sleep in the dirt with his brother, aching for his younger siblings...he passed his days in shame for failing his family, for failing Raphael, so badly.  
  
It all ended tonight.  
  
Below him, Usagi stood near the front door, guarding it against any attempt Karai made at escape. Across from him on the apartment's roof, Donatello knelt beside the window, so silent that the loose shingles didn't click underfoot. His eyes reflected the moonlight as he watched Leonardo, waiting for the instant he struck.  
  
Heartbeat, breath unconsciously synchronized. He tightened his hands on his swords. When he leaped, he would only have a few seconds to land and parry Karai's strike.  
  
The earth breathed with him. The wind and clouds surged by in excitement. He shifted his weight. Clouds covered the moon. In darkness, he leaped forward at the warm glow of the window.  
  
Wood splintered and snapped as he broke through the shutter. He rolled and turned with his swords up, already leaning hard to the left. The blind dodge saved his life. Karai's sword stabbed the air where his throat had been.  
  
He wasted no time attacking, instead backing away and luring her to the other side of the apartment. There was precious little room for a fight, but he would give Donatello every inch he could.  
  
She was as fast as he remembered. Flowing like liquid, she moved first on four legs, surging toward the wall and climbing up over him like the crest of a wave, flicking her tail before whipping around, wakizashi out. Cramped so tight, the range of their weapons tilted the fight in her favor. Her short swords didn't accidentally graze the wall, threatening to stick in the wood. Leonardo kept his katana close and sacrificed distance, coming much further into her reach than he wanted.  
  
On the far end of the room, Donatello knelt in front of the mirror hanging over the fire, staring at it in wonder. This glass had seen the sun goddess emerge from her cave, had captured her holy radiance. Even darkened with a curse and the fire's soot, the edges glowed with divine light. He knew that if he wanted, the mirror could show him Raphael and Michaelangelo, but he resisted temptation, instead kneeling and taking a piece of burnt black wood from the edge of the fire.  
  
First a circle, then the hexagrams. He had no time to create anything better than a crude I Ching, but the mirror was trapped in the worst spot of a house facing the worst direction, and in the worst part of town. The chi had become stuck, stagnated, so that it congealed into disgusting black residue on the mirror's surface. To safely remove it, he had to return the proper flow. His hands worked to create the hexagrams instinctively, remembering the motions and leaving him free to work out where to place the candles.  
  
Heavy footsteps thundered up the stairs, and despite themselves, all three of them couldn't help glancing at the door as it flung open and Usagi charged in, swords up. The samurai came to a halt, sizing up the fight and turning to guard Donatello. He couldn't risk getting in Leonardo's way, but he could keep the sorcerer safe. In such cramped quarters, a stray stroke of her sword could take off Donatello's head before either of them could react.  
  
Usagi thought she was fast enough to do it, too, even with him standing there. The walls were like floors to her, letting her fight from all directions while Leonardo spun, dodging so that her swords missed, always by a fraction of an inch. The scarf began to take damage, small slices and rips that would have been his throat if Karai could see it clearly. No wonder he wore it. A liability in any other battle, the scarf provided cover against Karai's constantly shifting focus.  
  
Like this, Usagi saw them as they should have been if karma had not taken them down different roads. They moved like the tao, ebbing and flowing together, knowing when the other would strike from years of long practise. He saw her style, quick with short strokes, moving with a snake's poison. It countered Leonardo's circling and shifting, feints and counterfeints, flowing lies and a deceptive thrust that suddenly turned true.  
  
As he watched her wounds accumulate, Usagi was glad that he'd faced Leonardo in the open and with an advantage. More than mere skill, Leonardo had saints that watched his back, and Guan Yin who guided his sword arm.  
  
"...zhe ji la o xi to ye..."  
  
A steady chant flowed like water, an undercurrent to the fight. Usagi turned and took a startled step back as the fire flared a dark purple, as clumps of bad chi sloughed off the glass. Three candles sparkled and hissed as if struck by water, but they didn't go out, angrily burning away evil energy.  
  
His lapse nearly killed him. Karai's scream didn't warn him in time to dodge her strike as she dove at him. Swords clashed in front of his face as Leonardo's sword blocked hers. Already bringing his sword up, Usagi had to change his aim so he wouldn't hit Leonardo. He didn't expect to hit anything, but a spray of blood and a gasp followed as his katana bit through Karai's tail, shearing it off and leaving it jerking wildly on the floor.  
  
Strange screeches emerged from the back of her throat as she retreated back to the wall, arching her back as she fought to find her balance. Her hands trembled, rose and fell as she tried to raise her defence. She began to tip to the left, overcompensated and struck her shoulder against the door frame. Ragged and wild, her breath slowly began to steady again, and she stared at Leonardo, his scarf in tatters revealing his face.  
  
"Traitor," she hissed, rasping deep in her throat as she fought the pain to speak. "Honorless coward. Disgusting..." Her look flickered at Donatello, then back on Leonardo. "Your duty was to me. You owed your devotion--Your father murdered mine!"  
  
Her voice cracked and she shrieked, finding her centre in her anger. Her eyes turned wild and dark, and in the violet light, her skin glowed in lurid patches around her black blood slowly covering her skin.  
  
"I was the leader of the clan! You belonged to me!"  
  
She lunged. Usagi's breath caught in his throat as she moved too fast to stop, too close to do more than back away. To his horror, Leonardo didn't even try to escape. The ninja presented an easy kill, swords raised but uselessly still, as if her words alone had dealt a death blow. Karai leaned forward into the leap, trying to compensate for her lost tail.  
  
Donatello's voice cut through Usagi's warning cry.  
  
Karai's world went dark.  
  
At first she thought that the fire had gone out, but there was no moonlight, no gleam of a sword. Her eyes did not adjust. No outlines. No shades of grey. No light. Her body instinctively compensated for the loss, and suddenly her wounds and the mangled stump of her tail flared into mindless agony.  
  
Shock followed. Her centre shattered. Her hands trembled, let go of her swords and grabbed at her face, trying to see a flash of something, anything, the shapes of her fingers scrabbling at her eyes. Shrieking, she arched wildly and fell to the floor, and the rough wood scraped at the bloody mess of her back.  
  
Long moments passed as she howled, flailed, clutching at the air, until her body could take no more. She stopped moving, twitching as she drew quick breaths. Tiny incomprehensible sounds came from her throat. She heard Leonardo's swords return to their sheathes and he took a step toward her.  
  
"Don't," Donatello said softly. "We need to leave."  
  
"I...but..." Leonardo hesitated. "Don..."  
  
"Raph and Mike need us."  
  
"...you're right," Leonardo whispered. He stepped away from her, turning his back. "Let's go."  
  
In the darkness she heard them gather the mirror, heard Donatello whispering to her betrothed--  
  
\--her traitor--  
  
\--Leonardo, gathering what was once hers to himself.  
  
Where there had been anger, nothing but the cold night remained. They'd taken everything from her now, her father, her tail, Leonardo, the mirror, her eyes. Their voices faded until she was left alone with the silence and the fading ashes. She didn't move. The blood coating her back froze and congealed, and cold light came through the window as the sun rose.


	8. Ghosts in the Fog

Racing the dawn, racing the curse -- only years of discipline kept Leonardo from howling in frustration. Every second could mean Raphael's life but he couldn't run faster than Donatello, who was weighed down by the heavy golden mirror. Neither knew exactly where their brothers were, guided solely by Donatello's intuition, and Leonardo hastily cleared paths through the choked back alleys, tipping over carts to make ramps for walls that Donatello couldn't leap.  
  
"Left," the sorcerer said, following his older brother as they turned down the red light district. In the grey first light of morning, the red lanterns were unlit and the windows shuttered. A few drunks lingered on the empty streets.  
  
"Right," Donatello said.  
  
Leonardo nearly clipped the wall as he blindly turned. His breath caught when he saw the tiny tattoo shop beyond the alley. He didn't need any more directions. He could feel his little brothers ahead, scared and hurting, their spirits calling out for his.  
  
Pushing open the door, he stumbled breathlessly in, hesitating only as long as it took to see his brothers, to see Michelangelo look up at him in shock. Leonardo fell to his knees in front of them, touching Michelangelo's cheek first, then Raphael's, reassuring himself that it wasn't a nightmare. Real, they were real.  
  
"Leo..." Michelangelo whispered, but Raphael's groan pulled him out of his surprise and back to the chant. His voice grew thick and tears welled up, and he reached out and found Leonardo's hand. When he saw Donatello carrying the mirror, relief made his chant all but incomprehensible.  
  
Not wasting time speaking, Donatello came in and knelt in the corner, laying the mirror flat on the floor. He grabbed a jar of ink and a brush and began painting symbols around the mirror.  
  
"Chant with him," Donatello ordered.  
  
Scooting closer to Michelangelo, Leonardo squeezed his hand reassuringly and joined his voice. He followed his brother's rhythm and didn't falter, having heard Donatello repeat this chant often.  
  
Usagi quietly closed the door and sat with his back against it, lowering his eyes when Michelangelo stared at him. He expected some kind of reaction to his presence, but Michelangelo just glanced at Leonardo and relaxed at his nod. Clearly Michelangelo trusted his brothers implicitly, even when they brought home a strange ronin.  
  
He couldn't help studying these two brothers out of the corner of his eye. Even though Donatello and Leonardo referred to them as younger, they didn't seem any younger to him. If anything, the slightly heavier Raphael looked older than all of them.  
  
Leonardo hadn't been exaggerating when he said Raphael and Michelangelo were decorated with far more colorful designs. Even the cursed ink covering Raphael's face couldn't hide his lifelike peonies, which seemed to sway gently in a summer breeze. Likewise, the streams and carp on Michelangelo's skin seemed to flow. Usagi told himself that it was an illusion created by their breathing, but the colors were too vibrant, the illusion too strong. He wondered if Donatello wasn't the only one in the family with a talent for magic.  
  
"Don't stop until I say you can," Donatello said. "No matter what."  
  
Usagi's fur prickled as Donatello began his own spell. Smoke poured out of the diagram he'd drawn around the mirror, rising from unseen depths beneath the earth and sweeping out like a thick blanket. Usagi edged away from it first, then grimaced as it touched him, telling himself that it was just like the smoke from before, curling up and covering the floor. He glanced at Leonardo and found him pressed against Michelangelo, still holding one hand while his other was raised, mimicking Donatello's when he prayed. Neither showed any nervousness, and Usagi fought to squash the grimace from his face.  
  
Donatello's chanting grew more intense, the consonants turned sharp, the tones grew deep. Raphael turned his head from side to side. Michelangelo tightened his grip, trying to hold him still and hanging onto Leonardo like a lifeline.  
  
Who was whispering? At first Usagi thought Leonardo was giving encouragement to Michelangelo. Then he thought perhaps Raphael was mumbling deliriously.  
  
No. His fur prickled. Low whispers filled the room, soft voices that he could feel breathing over him.  
  
Usagi felt perversely reassured to see the others so worried. Michelangelo squeezed his eyes shut. Leonardo was glancing around nervously, looking at Donatello to make sure the sorcerer wasn't afraid. Even Raphael pressed into Michelangelo's arms, turning away as the smoke crept over his legs.  
  
Please, no ghosts, Usagi thought. He could handle whispering spirits as long as he didn't have to see them.  
  
The room filled with whispers. Usagi didn't move for fear of seeing spirits around him. The voices felt like they were inside his head, beneath his skin. His heart skipped when he saw faces rolling in the smoke. Eyes wide, he glanced back at Donatello and found the sorcerer pressing his hand on the glass. Between his fingers, dark chi dripped out of the mirror, leaving the holy relic pure and uncorrupted.  
  
And then, like a candle blown out, the spell ended. The whispers stopped, and in their place Raphael sighed as if a heavy weight had slipped from his back. The cursed ink fell from his face like water and disappeared into the ground as the smoke cleared away.  
  
Staring at him in wonder, Michelangelo touched the skin that had been black and cold. Nothing remained but clear, warm skin. Leaves and peonies ended on Raphael's face as if Michelangelo had simply stopped in the middle of tattooing. It made Raphael look vulnerable as his younger brother bent and kissed the corner of his eye.  
  
"Looks like I've gotta do that bit again," Michelangelo whispered.  
  
Careful to cover the mirror with the scrap that had once been Leonardo's scarf, Donatello turned, then crawled the short distance between him and his brothers. He put both hands on Raphael's face and turned him, examining him intently. Raphael blinked at him, eyes bleary as if he'd been asleep for days.  
  
"Is he okay?" Michelangelo asked.  
  
For a moment Donatello said nothing. Didn't move, didn't speak. And then he wrapped his arms around Raphael and hugged him so close that his hat was knocked to the floor, and his smile said everything. Raphael held him with one arm, sighing as he moved. They'd been separated for too long but fit together again as if no time had passed.  
  
Remembering someone was missing, Raphael tilted his head enough to spot Leonardo at his side, his head slightly bowed and his gaze cast at the floor. The eldest made no move toward him. If Raphael hadn't known him so well, he would have been hurt.  
  
"Idiot," Raphael murmured, but there was no anger in his voice. He reached up and touched Leonardo's cheek, smiling as Leonardo finally looked at him. "You're s'posed to be fearless."  
  
Leonardo gave a weak laugh, reaching up and holding Raphael's hand. "I never stopped being afraid. Are you--?"  
  
The wooden creak of a cart outside stole Leonardo's attention. The early merchants were coming out, and soon too many people would be around for them to leave. If they were going to run, they had to go now. The joyful reunion simply had to wait.  
  
"We have to get out of here," Leonardo said. "Raphael, can you walk?"  
  
"I can carry him," Michelangelo said, but a yawn distorted his words. "Um, if I'm carrying him to a bed somewhere so I can crash with him."  
  
"He's been praying all night," Raphael mumbled, blinking too much as the lack of sleep and the night's ordeal rushed up on him. "An' you three--whoever the hell he is--look like hell."  
  
"That's--that's Usagi," Leonardo said. "He's here to...no. I'll explain later."  
  
"Can't we just sleep the day here?" Donatello asked. "I don't want to risk dropping the mirror because I got too tired to hold it."  
  
"Karai's still alive," Leonardo said. "They'll hunt us down when they find her. We have to be out of the city before that happens, time for our trail to grow cold."  
  
"Still alive?" Raphael asked. His mouth twisted. "Should've known."  
  
"Raphael--"  
  
"Look, Leo, unless you're gonna carry alla us to Kyoto--"  
  
"Figures. Save your life and the first thing you do is argue--"  
  
Usagi watched as the four descended into brotherly bickering. The scene amused him -- four ninja who had just defied their old clan, all arguing like children -- but he had to reluctantly interrupt. From their demeanor, this squabbling was normal and might go on longer than they could afford.  
  
"There is a place we could rest outside of the city," Usagi said. "An abandoned home. I stayed there the night before I arrived."  
  
He steeled himself as they paused and looked at him. Even Leonardo appeared more wary of him, obviously wondering how much the samurai could be trusted now that the mirror was safe. With one brother recovering from a curse and everyone else exhausted, however, Leonardo had little choice. Donatello glanced at his brother, read his look, then sighed and turned to gather the mirror, wrapping it up more securely in the scarf.  
  
"Can we get there without taking the main road?" Leonardo asked.  
  
"It's not on the main highway," Usagi assured him. "It's beyond the farmlands past the castle. Although I'm not sure how you plan on getting through the city without being seen. It was a miracle no one saw us running just now."  
  
"Hiding us is my job," Donatello said a little too quickly, narrowing his eyes, but he looked at Leonardo with a frown. "I won't be much use afterward 'till I get some sleep."  
  
"It's all right. Just get us there." Leonardo looked at Raphael, whose eyes were already closing. Michelangelo didn't look much better. He yawned again and shook his head, trying to clear it.  
  
"Mike, are you sure you can carry him? You've had a hard night--"  
  
"Oh, and you didn't?" Michelangelo snapped, startling himself. He grimaced and looked down. "Sorry. I'm tired, yeah, but I can go another hour or two. 'Sides, Raph gained a lot of weight just sitting around. If you try to pick him up, he'll crush you."  
  
Leonardo smiled and didn't argue. How he'd missed that sense of humor. Raphael didn't comment at all. He'd fallen fast asleep. Michelangelo grabbed a bag and swept several dyes and needle sticks inside, tying it off on his belt. As they maneuvered Raphael back onto Michelangelo's shell, Donatello picked up the mirror and stood at the door, whispering rapidfire.  
  
"Hate to lose the shop," Michelangelo said as he hefted Raphael up a few inches. "Think we'll find another one I can steal?"  
  
"I doubt Kyoto has a lot of tattoo shops," Leonardo said. "They're bigger on temples, I think."  
  
"But if we do find one?"  
  
"It's all yours."  
  
Standing beside them, Usagi tried to tell himself that they were joking, bolstering each other before the long and uncertain trip. Or perhaps that the previous owner of this shop had been an undercover ninja. Or that--  
  
He sighed. Or that he wasn't a meddlesome samurai traveling with four likable ninja.  
  
Donatello opened the door. Usagi expected to see the first rays of morning spilling into the streets. Instead, black clouds rolled in faster than they should have, rumbling with thunder, and thick fog filled the city. Usagi could barely see the shop across from them.  
  
"Okay," Donatello mumbled, eyes half shut. "That should hold for a couple hours."  
  
"Don?" Leonardo came up beside him, trying to see his face.  
  
"I'm fine," Donatello said, barely turning his head. "It's just a strong spell, that's all. It'll be good when we can rest."  
  
"If you can't walk, I can--"  
  
"No," Donatello shook his head. "You can't carry me. I have to carry the mirror. No one else can without it hurting them. Besides, you should stay alert. Just because no one can find us doesn't mean we won't be attacked."  
  
A not-so-veiled comment about Usagi, but the samurai let it pass. He'd traveled with people who hadn't trusted him before. It wasn't all that pleasant, but it didn't matter as long as they didn't attack him. And he doubted Leonardo would permit anything from his family.  
  
Donatello took the lead with Leonardo at his arm, steadying him as they walked. Michelangelo followed on Donatello's other side, yawning and pulling Raphael up every few minutes. Usagi made sure to keep close. In the thick fog, he didn't think he would find them again if he lost them. Occasionally the side of a cart would appear or someone would stumble a few feet in front of them, but they disappeared as fast as they came. Edo slept for a little longer as the fog pressed in.  
  
When Usagi found himself veering slightly, his head dulled from weariness, he put his hand on Leonardo's shoulder to anchor himself. The ninja didn't shake him off. Out of reflex, Leonardo tensed slightly at his touch, then relaxed when he realized it was Usagi.  
  
"Afraid of ghosts?" Leonardo teased.  
  
"Not at all," Usagi said.  
  
He looked at the four with a faint smile. All of them had been through a long ordeal and yet none of them seemed weary. Exhausted, yes, but they were walking miles to the nearest shelter without dragging their feet or nervously looking over their shoulders. Even Leonardo seemed to have lost a mountain of weight from his shoulders. Usagi had known samurai who would have complained bitterly about a fraction of what these four did with little argument. And now they escaped their clan by simply walking out of Edo, silent and invisible.  
  
Why would he be afraid of ghosts? He had four to lead him through the fog along the road to Kyoto.


	9. Firefly Road

The old wood pressed roughly against Usagi's back as he waited. By the other side of the doorway, Leonardo glanced back where Donatello was wrapping the mirror more securely, occasionally shooing away a curious Michelangelo who'd already been shooed away from Raphael for "hovering." Reassured for the moment, Leonardo turned and faced the setting sun.  
  
"Are you sure about this?" Leonardo asked. "I know you're uncomfortable around sorcery."  
  
Usagi smiled in acknowledgment. The sun slipped closer to the distant mountains, briefly blazing the road they would take, like a bronze road brightly polished. In a few minutes, the sun would disappear and the night would rush after it. The full moon was already overhead, but Usagi didn't trust anything under its light.  
  
"I do prefer to travel during the day," he admitted. "But this is the safest way to take the mirror back to Kyoto. It's too conspicuous otherwise."  
  
"I'm sure Donatello will be glad you agree," Leonardo said.  
  
First looking over his shoulder to make sure the sorcerer wasn't listening, Usagi eyed Leonardo and snorted. Donatello had glared at him the entire time they walked here, all but growling if Usagi touched Leonardo's shoulder. When they'd arrived at the old house, Donatello had insisted on sitting up with Leonardo to keep watch. In truth, he'd only watched Usagi for the short time before he fell asleep despite himself, passed out on Leonardo's shoulder.  
  
"He won't hurt you," Leonardo promised. "He's just...possessive. Especially after everything with Karai."  
  
Karai. Usagi didn't have to give it much thought. She had been the intended of a ninja who was absolutely devoted to his brothers, who returned his devotion in equal measure. Of course Donatello fiercely guarded Leonardo's affections. He'd seen evidence of that the first night. And, although he wouldn't mention it, he'd seen more proof of it as they'd slept.  
  
Michelangelo was a skilled artist. The purple smoke inked into Donatello's body well camouflaged the name written on the inside of his thigh.  
  
About to respond, Usagi cut himself off as voices erupted from inside.  
  
"I am not lugging your heavy butt anymore!" Michelangelo said, darting backwards through the door while sticking his tongue out. "You oughta be carrying me."  
  
"I'm still recovering from a curse," Raphael said. "You should have more sympathy."  
  
Raphael stepped out leisurely, only a few inches taller than the others but somehow more imposing. Usagi imagined it was the easy way he moved, the power his heavier muscles radiated. He looked much better after a full day's rest, even if he had been sleeping on a cold floor. Using Michelangelo as a pillow probably helped. He gave Usagi a brief nod of acknowledgement.  
  
"You're looking much better," Leonardo said, not hiding how he studied Raphael. If last night's pain had stolen anything from him, being with his family had given it all back.  
  
"Of course I am," Raphael said. "You got that curse off."  
  
This time Leonardo didn't glance away out of shame or guilt. His guard slipped a little as he met Raphael's look, softening in relief.  
  
"Well, I do have to take care of my little brothers," Leonardo said.  
  
"'Little'?" Raphael slapped his hand on the wall beside Leonardo's head, leaning in. This close, the difference between their builds, their heights, even the way they held themselves was highlighted.  
  
"Little," Leonardo repeated, softer this time. "No matter how old we get."  
  
Raphael would have responded, but pebbles began hitting his shell and shoulder. Frowning in confusion, he turned as another one struck his chest. On the other side of the road, Michelangelo stood with a handful of tiny stones in hand.  
  
"Aw, I was hoping all that rest made you faster," Michelangelo grinned. "Nope, still slow as an ox."  
  
Usagi didn't quite understand the reference, but it was clearly an old tease between the two. Cracking his knuckles, Raphael took a breath and then took off after Michelangelo, who yelped and dropped his pebbles, performing a few fancy flips to get away.  
  
"Show off," Raphael grumbled.  
  
The sun finally disappeared completely just as Donatello came out, lit by the moon and the last purple rays of sunlight. He held the mirror, neatly swathed in a bundle of cloth, under one arm. Glancing sideways at Usagi, he stood between the samurai and Leonardo and didn't move.  
  
"We can leave now," Donatello said. "Do you have your lantern?"  
  
Usagi nodded and unfolded it, holding it out to him. Donatello reached in and whispered a word. When he withdrew, the lantern provided enough of a silver glow to light a broad swath around them. Usagi held the lantern at arm's length. Unlike a candle, the light inside gave off no warmth, as cold as moonlight.  
  
"That's all the light we have?" Michelangelo called from a little down the road, still ducking Raphael's grabs. "Leo, maybe we shouldn't go at night. I'll be fine, but Raph'll trip over every rock."  
  
"Hold still, you little--"  
  
"Come back here," Leonardo called out though he hated to stop them, content to watch them playing after being so long apart. "I don't want us spreading too far tonight."  
  
"Aww..." Michelangelo groaned. "This trip's gonna be so boring. I can't do Raph's new tats on the road."  
  
Squashing his laugh as Michelangelo obeyed by walking on his hands, Usagi joined them on the road. He ignored Donatello's look as he walked on Leonardo's other side, sure that he wouldn't dare curse him while Leonardo was there.  
  
As they walked, the world outside their lantern grew dark. The moon turned the landscape black and silver, and they all drew closer to the circle of light. At first none of them noticed the handful of fireflies along the side of the road, but as more and more gathered, Michelangelo tried to catch one and Raphael waved them away from his face.  
  
"Donatello?" Leonardo murmured.  
  
The sorcerer smiled. "I thought everyone would feel a little better with some more light."  
  
"Are you sure it's safe?" Raphael asked. "No one will notice?"  
  
"It's dark enough," Leonardo said, "that they'll probably think we're spirits."  
  
"Exactly," Donatello said. "Besides, we're not on the Tokaido. We won't run into nearly as many people."  
  
"At least it doesn't add too many days to the trip," Michelangelo said, hands up, stalking a slow firefly. "In two weeks, I know I'll be sick of inns and rest stops."  
  
"Traveling isn't so bad when you get used to it," Usagi said.  
  
Traveling, Leonardo thought. Maybe wandering was a better word. He glanced at Donatello, at Raphael and Michelangelo, who grinned as he pounced and caught the firefly. He didn't want to wander if that was just a nicer word for running. Their old clan would never stop looking for them. Either they had to disappear completely, difficult with their colorful markings and less than honest trade, or they had to find a lord to serve, but that would be next to impossible. No one trusted ninja for a reason.  
  
Maybe they could settle for awhile in some town, or perhaps even take up banditry like so many ronin. His mind wandered back to the conversation he'd had with Usagi the night before, whispering over Donatello as they kept watch. Young Lord Noriyuki sounded like he needed ninja to spy and kill for him.  
  
He glanced at Usagi and watched the lantern light play off his fur, watched the way he moved. Usagi noticed his look and smiled back.  
  
Yes, there were many roads open to them. Leonardo decided to wait before choosing. For now, the road to Kyoto stretched before them, promising rest, renewal, and hopefully a fresh supply of ink.


End file.
